


Keep Your Eyes On Me

by ElloPoppet



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Arc Reactor, Bucky is a Secret Science Nerd, Confessions, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Feels, First Kiss, Flirting, Fluff, Hydra is Hunting Bucky, I have no idea what I'm doing here, M/M, Misunderstandings, Pet Names, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma, Safehouses, Sassy Bucky Barnes, Sassy Tony Stark, Sharing a Bed, Supportive Avengers, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Has Nightmares, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings, and so does Bucky, so many nicknames
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-16
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-08-24 08:09:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16636130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElloPoppet/pseuds/ElloPoppet
Summary: “What the fuck, Stark. I don’t...I don’thate you.Christ!”Tony registered the offended and visceral tone of Barnes’ voice before processing the words, shaken off guard by both when they finally sunk in.“That’s...huh.” Tony responded, eloquently.“Is this about what I said when we got here? Because I meant that Steve would never make you bunk with me alone becauseyouwouldn’t like it.” Barnes said, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.“...huh.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't a single goddamn clue how I wound up here. I'm a Winterhawk shipper, through and through.
> 
> I'm pretty sure it's because I wrote a scene with Tony and Bucky in my last Winterhawk fic and it gave me a metric fuckton of emotions, and so here I am, stumbling about without knowing left from right. I'm not sure how long this fic will be, but I'm estimating 3-5 chapters.
> 
> So, with that super confident introduction...enjoy?

“So it’s just us, then.”

There was no inflection in Barnes’ statement, and Tony figured that now would not be the time to try and school the ex-fist of Hydra in proper grammar. 

“Looks that way, Pop Tart.” Tony froze at his own statement, cocking his head to the side, trying to calculate where that particular nickname had come from in his scrambled mind. He didn’t need to glance over to know that Barnes was looking at him quizzically, so he shrugged.

“I’m tired. Don’t ask because I don’t know.”

And Barnes must have taken that as a satisfactory answer, because he squeezed past Tony (a fraction of an inch between them as he did so, but naturally, Barnes ensured that no contact was made) and made his way further into the front room of the safehouse. The wide open and empty safehouse. 

“Your best bud, the other half of Team Geriatric Super Soldiers? He had me fooled for a minute that maybe he wasn’t as much of a dick as he used to be. Joke’s on me, I guess,” Tony bit out, aiming for joking but hearing his own bitterness all the same. 

“”M sure he didn’t mean for it to turn out this way, Stark. We knew there was a chance we’d get split up, this is the way the shit landed.” 

Tony squeezed the bridge of his nose. “That blind faith is cute and all Barnes, but how can you be so sure?”

Barnes seemed to contemplate for a minute before responding. When he did so, Tony shut down, losing any hope that maybe their stint in protection wouldn’t be so bad.

“‘Cuz he wouldn’t strand me with you.”

Tony’s laugh was a harsh bark. “Right. Right. Okay then, I’m going to hit on the electricity and get cozy. Don’t come upstairs if you want to avoid me that bad, kay? Sleep tight, don’t let the commies bite.” With that, he shuffled past Barnes to the staircase, keeping a wide berth. 

Tony heard Barnes stutter as he went and let out an exasperated “I didn’t mean it like that.”

Tony didn’t care to acknowledge it. He was tired, far too tired to deal with Barnes in that moment, and so he kept going up the stairs until they were out of each other’s sight.

*

Three days passed without another word spoken between them. Barnes had settled into a routine with ease, eating when necessary, sleeping when possible, and otherwise working out, lounging with a book or nowhere to be found. That last one really confused Tony, because the house was not big, held no major hiding spots for obvious reasons, and they were under no circumstances cleared to leave until they got word from Steve or Fury that the Hydra operatives who were hunting Barnes had been killed or captured. 

Tony decided that Barnes must be magic, being able to just disappear like that. Tony hated magic, which was fine, because he didn’t necessarily need to feel as fond towards Barnes as he did anyway. 

Tony wasn’t adjusting as well to what equated to being stuck in solitary confinement with the man whose body had been used to murder his parents. Tony wasn’t adjusting well to the safe house in general because hell, he didn’t have anything to _do_ here, besides take apart all of the electronics and pieces of technology in the house and put them back together. 

Which he had already done. Twice.

On the third day, it was Barnes who finally broke the silence when their burner phone rang shrilly from the middle of the dining room table. He lunged at it, his voice cracking from disuse when he answered. 

“Steve?”

Tony perked up a bit at that, looking up from the corner of the couch where he had hunkered down with one of his Stark Pads to start designing his next suit, because boredom. 

He watched Barnes’ face remain stoic as he listened, waiting for some indication of what Steve was telling him. Naturally, Barnes didn’t give anything away, shooting off a simple “Understood. Stay safe,” before putting the phone back down on the table. 

Barnes met Tony’s gaze and shook his head slowly. “Not good. The assholes managed to get outta range, Stevie said they’ve gotta start tracking them all over again. No ETA.”

Tony let out a breath and drew in another, trying not to let the panic that he was feeling show. 

“Did he mention why nobody else is here with us?”

Barnes flinched at that. “Apparently Clint was hit, took the Hulk to get him outta there, and you know Nat won’t go where Clint isn’t. They’re holed up in a secure wing of a hospital, courtesy of Fury.”

“And Steve?”

“That stupid punk has a hero complex, in case you hadn’t noticed. Seems he’s the only one capable enough of bringing the handlers down before they snatch me back up.” Tony nearly smiled at the snark in Barnes’ voice, aimed towards Steve. “Besides,” Barnes continued, “apparently he trusts you to keep me safe. Because I guess I’m just a kid who needs babysitting.” 

Tony rolled his eyes. “Don’t get your panties in a wad, Princess. It’s better to have someone on your six, even if it’s someone you hate with every fiber of your cyborg being, and you know it.”

He didn’t sound hurt. Or bitter. 

He didn’t.

Barnes, on the other hand, looked as though he had been slapped across his face. His eyes widened, brows furrowed, and he actually took a step towards Tony instead of backward.

“What the fuck, Stark. I don’t...I don’t _hate_ you. Christ!”

Tony registered the offended and visceral tone of Barnes’ voice before processing the words, shaken off guard by both when they finally sunk in. 

“That’s...huh.” Tony responded, eloquently. 

“Is this about what I said when we got here? Because I meant that Steve would never make _you_ bunk with _me_ alone because you wouldn’t like it.” Barnes said, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“...huh.” Tony was really going to have to become apart of this conversation soon. He cleared his throat. “No, actually, I didn’t assume you hated me because of what you said. I assumed you hated me because let’s see, you never look at me, you tend to leave the room when I walk in, you’re on a first name basis with everyone else on the team, and oh yeah, it’s generally not recommended to do anything other than hate the asshole who tried to kill you for something that you weren’t responsible for.” Tony held up fingers as he went and wiggled them in tandem with the last word. 

Barnes looked flabbergasted, like he didn’t even know where to start. 

“I,” he started, breaking eye contact. “I killed your parents, Stark. I don’t. You shouldn’t.”

Tony waited patiently, though he wanted to start addressing the incorrect statement that hung between them immediately. After a moment, Barnes continued.

“You shouldn’t have to be around me, is what I’m saying. I dunno why you let me come to the tower, but you did and the least I can do is make myself scarce. Was hopin’ that maybe you would just...forget who I was, which sounds real fuckin’ dumb when I say it now.”

Tony stared at the man in front of him. 100 years old, not looking a day over 30, body huge and solid, yet curled into himself, so small in that moment. Barnes looked young. He looked...scared.

Tony laughed.

“Fucking Hell, Barnes. We’re a pair of idiots. I’m a certifiable genius and I know for a fact that you’re a shitload smarter than people give you credit for, but my God are we a matching set of idiotic children.” Tony could barely breathe as he spoke, laughter splitting his sides and tears forming in the corner of his eyes. Barnes continued to look lost, though a bit more relaxed.

“You don’t hate me?” Tony asked, and Barnes shook his head instantly. “Good. I don’t hate you. We’ve been through this, Terminator, and I’m only saying it again because even though you look all adorable when you’re confused it’s making me kind of sad. I’ll never forgive you because you don’t need to be forgiven, and you’ll never forgive me because you think me trying to smoke your ass in the bunker was called for. Capiche?” 

All Barnes could do was nod, unable to form a different response amidst this _painfully brilliant_ revelation. 

*

Though Barnes had agreed to Tony’s valid points, and the air in the house didn’t feel so thick for the rest of the day, they still kept their space and their silence. 

*

Tony knew that Barnes had nightmares, sometimes. 

Whether they were nightmares, night terrors or PTSD flashbacks, he wasn’t sure, but Steve and Friday had kept him abreast of Barnes’ struggles when he first came to the tower due to the fact that shit tended to get broken when an episode occurred. Over the months since Barnes had acclimated, Tony heard less and less about the nightmares, but had been on edge during their first few nights at the safe house because like hell if he would know how to snap Barnes out of it like Steve did. 

As it turned out, Tony shouldn’t have worried, because he was the one to break first.

*

“Stark?” Bucky whispered, standing outside the closed door to the master bedroom. “You alright?”

Bucky felt the low thrum of worry coursing through his veins erupt into blinding panic as the muffled sobs from the other side of the door turned into a strangled shout. One kick was all it took to level the door to the ground, and it two strides he was standing over Stark, who was thrashing, sweaty and disheveled on top of the bed.

Bucky’s panic withered into a bright ache at the sight of him, once understanding dawned. How many times had Steve stood over him like this, heart breaking and unsure of what to do? Bucky would have to buy Steve a card. Or maybe a private island, that might just cover a fraction of what he was owed. 

“Stark, wake up.” No change. Bucky raised his voice into something falsely stern. “Tony, open your eyes. Tony, open up, you’re asleep, you’re safe in bed.” Bucky hesitated before adding “Tony, wake up. I’m here.”

Tony stilled then, chest still heaving. Bucky let out a breath. “That’s right. Open your eyes for me, nothin’ to be afraid of.”

Tony didn’t follow the directive but did reach out blindly with his hands until they found Bucky where he was standing nearby.

“Barnes? Christ, Barnes, please...need ground under my feet, need to. The floor.”

Tony wasn’t making a whole hell of a lot of sense, but it didn’t take more than a second for things to click into place for Bucky. Steve had told him about it, and he had read it in Tony’s file. The man had nearly died, drifting in space, staring down the insides of a wormhole. 

Of course he would have nightmares of flying, of falling. Somehow, Bucky’s heart shattered even further. He reached out where Tony was grasping for him, pulling him out of the bed to stand up, keeping both flesh and metal hands on Tony’s upper arms for support.

Tony swayed a bit on his feet regardless, reaching out and gripping Bucky’s hips in a hold that would have bruised him had he been unaltered. Bucky didn’t move, didn’t make a sound, simply stood there trying to ground Tony back into reality, giving him all the time he needed.

A full minute passed before Tony opened his eyes, the whiskey orbs latching onto Bucky’s gaze immediately. 

“Bucky?” Tony whispered. Bucky tried valiantly to suppress the shiver racing down his spine at the sound of the name on Tony’s lips.

“Yeah?”

Tony sagged backward then, mattress springing under the weight of his body as he sat stiffly on the edge of the bed. Feeling no longer needed, Bucky went to withdraw his hands and step back, but was abruptly halted by the feeling of Tony covering his metal hand with his own where it rested on Tony’s right forearm as they faced each other.

“Could you?” Tony’s question went unfinished, yet Bucky considered it fully spoken. 

“Yeah, Tony. Of course.” And Bucky stood over Tony, hands resting firmly on the man’s shoulders where he sat still on the bed, grounding him until the sun peeked over the horizon. 

*

They don’t mention it the following day, but Tony feels warmth radiating from his core whenever Bucky calls him Tony. Likewise, he’s awfully fond of the way Bucky’s name feels on his lips, and the way Bucky’s cheeks burn like embers every time Tony calls out for him.


	2. Chapter 2

“They’re never gonna leave me be, are they?”

Tony looked up from the map that was spread over the dining room table, the hopeless and empty tone of Bucky’s voice grasping his attention. He was startled when he realized that the room had grown dark around them, the windows no longer providing additional light for their task. Welp. No wonder Tony’s eyes had started to ache. 

“Come again, Mr. Freeze?” 

Bucky failed to roll his eyes and that piqued Tony’s interest further still. 

“I figured, with the book destroyed, Zemo locked up and Hydra basically scattered in the wind that I would be free, ya know? Seems these assholes just can’t get enough from me.” Bucky sighed, loosening his hair from the thin rubber band that had been holding his ponytail, only to haphazardly gather his locks into a messy, low hanging bun. “It’s just aggravating, is all.”

Tony snorted. “You sure that therapy I’ve been paying for is working? Because I think ‘aggravating’ might be a bit of an understatement.” Tony sighed and plopped into one of the dining set chairs. He ran a hand over his face, wondering when he had last slept. It couldn’t have been before Steve had had the map of already-raided-yet-still-questionable Hydra bases delivered to the safe house, right? 

“You’re right. You should go get some sleep, Tony. You’re starting to look like a dead man walking.” Oops. Right. If he was already at the stage where he was accidentally talking out loud, then it had been at least 60 hours without a catnap. For some reason, however, the almost motherly tone of Bucky’s spurred Tony onward.

“Well what a peach you are, I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve said to me. I’ve got a few more hours left on the clock, let’s keep going. What do you remember about….this one?” Tony pointed to one of the few bases that they hadn’t yet discussed to the far south of the map. 

Bucky sighed, metal finger starting to tap, tap, tap on the wood of the table. “Tony.”

“Bucko.” 

“Christ, you’re real annoying, ya know that? Would you just go lay down for an hour? Help put my mind at ease?”

“No can do, Buckaroo. Daddy’s working, work brain is whirring and all that.”

Bucky slammed his fist on the table, the wood groaning beneath the weight of his prosthetic. “Stark! I will shove this map into the garbage disposal, so help me God, if you don’t go the fuck to sleep right now.”

Tony felt a maelstrom of confusion, endearment, and _anger_ building within him at Bucky’s outburst. “Oh, I’m sorry, I guess I’d forgotten who was babysitting who, here. You gonna tuck me in, _Barnes_?”

Bucky growled, and fuck if that wasn’t somehow incredibly adorable. “Steve told me you were a pain in the ass, but I didn’t expect this level of childishness.”

Tony grinned, feral. “Watch your tone, kid. You’re just over half my age where it counts, you know that? It’s cute, though, slinging around accusations of childishness like that’ll hurt my feelings. I’m a grown man, Bucky, and I don’t wanna sleep right now, so I suggest you drop it, mkay?” His breath was ragged by the end, voice low and challenging, when really all he wanted was for Bucky to drop it and hand over his memories of the fucking Hydra bases. 

Bucky opened his mouth to argue back, but nothing came out. Tony stared at him expectedly, long seconds drawn out, before Bucky’s face morphed from something pissy to something soft. 

“Tony,” Bucky inquired, “are you afraid to go to sleep?”

Ah, fuck.

“I don’t need this,” Tony quipped, gently and with sarcasm rather than vitriol. He stood abruptly. “I guess maybe I’ll hit the hay after all. Happy hunting.”

Tony nearly made it to his bedroom on the second floor before he noticed that Bucky was following a few feet behind. 

“I’m going to have to put a bell on you. It’s not right, your ability to be so fucking quiet while also being so fucking...super soldier-like. What are you doing?” Tony knew he was rambling, but couldn’t keep his confusion at bay when Bucky sat down in the hallway across from Tony’s newly repaired bedroom door. 

Bucky shrugged and pulled a worn paperback out of his hoodie pouch. “Sometimes Stevie would sit in my room with me while I slept. Made me feel safer, more secure. Figured you might not be comfortable with me in your space, but I can sit out here while you nap. If you want.” Bucky held Tony’s gaze while he spoke, not a hint of vulnerability anywhere in his features. Tony envied him in that moment (envy, mixed with confusion, and something deeper, softer and warmer around the edges), envied his ability to offer up something so entirely selfless without a blatant fear of rejection. 

Tony did the only thing he could do. He deflected with sass. 

“Exist wherever you want, Sarge. I can’t do anything about it, but don’t let it go to your head. I’m the one babysitting you, remember?” 

Bucky rolled his eyes and crossed his legs, leaning against the wall. He was officially hunkered down, so Tony shot him a salute and went into his bedroom, closing the door behind him. 

Tony popped his head out a few seconds later and Bucky didn’t even look up from his book, choosing to simply raise an eyebrow. 

“You’re not going to murder me in my sleep, are you?” Tony asked, becoming leery of Bucky’s kindness. 

“I dunno, sweetheart,” Bucky drawled, slowly turning the page. “I might have to consider it if you don’t close the fucking door and get some goddamn rest.”

His response drew a small laugh out of Tony, and it was then that Bucky lifted his eyes from the page and met Tony’s gaze. Damn him and those eyes of his.

When Tony collapsed into his bed, it only took him a few moments to drift off to sleep, the sound of pages rustling from the other side of his door, eyes reminiscent of his arc reactor comforting him in his dreams. 

*

Tony slept for a solid seven hours and when he awoke, his body felt strange. He felt _rested_ , he realized, something that he was no longer accustomed to. He stretched a bit and felt the ache for coffee deep within his bones. When he opened his bedroom door to head downstairs he startled, nearly tripping.

Bucky lay there, in the hallway, using his hoodie for a pillow. He slept soundly and silently, hands clasped together on top of his chest. Tony was flooded with an emotion that ached, that pulled and pushed at him everywhere, filling nooks and crannies within him that he hadn’t known had been empty. It was disbelief. Awe. _Affection_. 

Tony lost track of time watching Bucky sleep on the hallway floor. When Bucky came to, he didn’t stir or rise into consciousness slowly. His eyes simply opened and snapped immediately to where Tony was standing and leaning against the door frame. 

Bucky smiled wide. Tony’s stomach dipped.

“What time is it?” Bucky whispered into the quietness of the house. Tony tapped on his watch, unable to even make a guess. 

“A bit after four.” Tony hesitated. “Thanks for the...you know. This. It, ah, helped?”

Bucky sat up and pushed his hair away from his face with his hands. “Don’t mention it. Did the grocery guy bring english muffins the other day? I need approximately all of them.” And James Barnes, the Winter Soldier, former Howling Commando, started down the stairs to make them breakfast, and Tony wondered absently how long he had been aching for this, for Bucky. 

Rather than ponder on it further, Tony pushed the thought aside and followed Bucky to the kitchen. English muffins did sound good, and he’d be damned if Bucky’s enormous appetite deprived him. 

*

Bucky was fascinated by everything about Tony, and he didn’t try to hide it. He had a million questions about Tony’s tech, about Friday, about Vision. Never before would he have had the opportunity to ask all of the questions that he had bouncing around in his head while at the tower, but at the safe house all they had was time. 

Tony figured that the questions would eventually become grating when Bucky started asking them one morning, a few days after Tony’s revelation in the hallway. Tony was trying to program their shitty coffee maker to respond to voice command, the poor piece of equipment in small pieces on the coffee table in the living room. Bits and pieces of other random machines from around the house also lay in piles, and Tony was trying to find the right part when Bucky plopped onto the floor on the other side of the table.

“What are you doing?” Bucky asked, eyes flitting around every square inch of Tony’s mess. “And how many remotes did you have to sacrifice to do it?”

Tony huffed out a small laugh. “I’m trying to get this girl to listen to us if we ask her to make coffee.”

Bucky made an interested noise. “So you’re trying to get her to recognize us as her God, right? That’s kinda neat. I’ll make sure that all that power doesn’t go to my head. I would suggest you do the same, but I think we’ve already lost you to your ego.” Bucky had been teasing more frequently since their first day at the house, and Tony was often caught off guard in the most pleasant of ways. Tony simply shook his head and focused on his task, expecting Bucky to lose interest pretty quickly. 

On the contrary, Bucky started asking questions about what Tony’s plans were when it came to programming the machine, which led to endless questions about how Tony had created most everything in the tower. Friday, being the great gal she was, took over for Tony from his watch when Bucky started asking about her schematics. 

A few hours later, coffee machine properly responding to Tony’s voice commands, Tony sat down beside where Bucky had made himself cozy on the couch. 

“I gotta say, for a centenarian, you’ve got a pretty solid mind for technology. Color me impressed.” Tony had hesitated to give the compliment, somehow resisting the temptation to cover up the sincerity with sarcasm.

Bucky preened, and Tony decided that he had made the right decision because holy fuck if Bucky didn’t look spectacular when he was proud of himself.

“I always liked science,” Bucky said with a shrug. Silence fell between them then, but it was something comfortable while it lasted. Until Bucky started tapping his fingers against his knees, eyes fixed straight ahead.

“What’s up, Snow Miser?” Tony cracked, though genuinely interested. 

Bucky bit at his bottom lip for a minute before sitting up straight and turning towards Tony on the couch. After a few false starts, Tony could actually see him steel his resolve before speaking. 

“If it’s not too much to ask, I was wonderin’ if I could take a look. Ya know, at…” and Bucky motioned towards Tony’s chest, where the glow of his reactor was visible through his t-shirt. Tony sucked in a breath, suddenly feeling like Bucky had busted him wide open just by asking. Which was ridiculous, because how many times had the others seen him shirtless, had seen him change or swim or lay out in the sun? Not to mention that Tony had been up close and personal with Bucky’s arm a multitude of times, from destroying his Hydra model to helping him maintain upgrades on his Wakandan replacement. He had been privy to the tears and scars where flesh met metal; Bucky’s request wasn’t anything ludicrous, and once Tony realized that he also recognized that what he was feeling was fear. Self-consciousness and fear. 

And that was something new, that was for sure.

A long enough period of time passed for Bucky to start to withdraw into himself, the look of having been rejected falling into place. “Sorry, that was real weird of me. Forget it. I’ll go make dinner,” Bucky muttered before standing, obviously intending on making his way to the kitchen. 

Tony reached out and wrapped his hand around Bucky’s flesh wrist. Bucky froze and whipped his head towards Tony, shock having replaced the rejection in his eyes. Tony smiled quickly and squeezed Bucky’s wrist once before letting go and standing up. He reached down and grasped the hem of his shirt, removing it with one fluid motion. He stood in front of Bucky, exposed from the hips up. He couldn’t think of a single damn thing to say, and so he didn’t. Instead, he watched.

He watched Bucky’s expression project several complicated emotions, before settling on something between appreciative and reverent as his eyes locked onto the reactor, glowing blue in the center of Tony’s chest. He stared at it, his iris’ moving minutely over the design and structure of the metal, the light of it reflecting off of Bucky’s eyes, making them even more unnaturally cerulean. 

“You can touch if you’re so inclined,” Tony said, his voice quiet lest he break the spell that Bucky appeared to be under. Bucky was apparently inclined, as he immediately brought up his flesh hand to rest over the reactor. 

“Oh,” Bucky breathed, eyes widening. “It’s warm.” He looked straight at Tony, who swallowed and tried to keep from shaking. 

“Yup. It’d be impossible to be anything else, with the amount of energy it’s expending at all times. Besides,” Tony said brightly, “I live amongst a few ice queens, I gotta stay warm somehow.”

Bucky snorted and gave the reactor one tiny tap before stepping away. “Yeah, yeah. You’ve got jokes, sweetheart. You want food?”

Tony nodded before picking up his shirt, going through the motions to get dressed. Bucky tsked as he walked away. 

“That’s a damn shame. You’re not too sore on the eyes, and that reactor is pretty damn beautiful. Don’t feel like you gotta hide in on my account.”

Tony’s mouth fell open and he tried valiantly to come up with a response, but by the time he thought of something Bucky was already out of sight. 

“What the fuck,” Tony whispered to himself under his breath, but rather than ponder on it as a problem that needed solving, he smiled and followed Bucky to the kitchen.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heya!
> 
> This chapter is short, but I've had this scene in my head for a while and wanted to get it done. I feel like it ended naturally, so I wasn't going to mess with it for the sake of length. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

After spending three weeks in the safe house with Bucky, Tony knew that it was only a matter of time before he lost his entire mind. He just wasn’t sure what would do him in first; the boredom or his blossoming, overwhelming desire to claim Bucky’s mouth with his own whenever they were in the same room. 

Which, okay, it was no secret that Tony Stark enjoyed sex. His past was a bit lurid, a bit loose and casual, and he owned up to it. He also owned up to the fact that he hadn’t shared a bed with anyone since he and Pepper split, and he was lonely, physically.

If it was a purely sex-driven, physical attraction to Bucky, Tony wouldn’t think twice about laying it on thick to test the waters. The problem was that apparently, all it took was a few weeks in close proximity with the guy to start developing feelings. Actual tender, soft, warm strands of affection and need that curled around and inside of him, at times threatening to suffocate his damaged heart with how strongly he was compromised.

He started to wonder if Bucky knew. He wouldn’t put it past him; for all the shit they gave Clint, he had always been incredibly perceptive and intelligent in the ways that only well-trained assassins are. Bucky was the same, taking in every detail of the room and reading into everything in a calculating way. Tony had started to notice that Bucky’s looks had begun lingering, his eyebrows furrowing as though trying to solve a complex equation. Bucky had also been making it a point to sit a bit closer, not quite sidled up side to side with Tony when they were hanging out or cooking in the kitchen, but close enough to where Tony could swear he felt Bucky’s body heat across his skin.

And how was Tony supposed to avoid catching feelings for the stupidly gorgeous super soldier when he continued to insist on sprawling out in the hallway whenever Tony went to his room to sleep? Once Tony had manned up and told Bucky how well he had slept the first time, it became routine. Tony felt overwhelmed with the gesture, if not a little silly, and yet he couldn’t find it within him to ask Bucky to stop, to tell him that it wasn’t necessary. Bucky never complained, seemed eager to be helpful, and he really wasn’t helping Tony’s emotional regulation very much.

The day came, as it always does, when the shit hit the fan. Metaphorically. 

Just shy of midnight on their 21st day (not that they were counting), Tony looked up from his StarkPad to ask Bucky a question about how to read specs in Russian. He asked the question to empty air, which was startling; how long had Bucky been gone? Tony had no way of knowing, having been too engrossed in the blueprints shining from the tablet. He checked around the house, flicking on lights as he went. Bucky typically didn’t crash until the wee hours of the morning, but Tony figured that perhaps he was asleep. That question was answered before Tony even made it all the way down the hallway on the second floor. Bucky’s door was wide open, and Bucky didn’t sleep without the door closed. He called down the hall anyway and peeked his head in to glance around the sparse room. Empty. 

Well, what the fuck. It had been a while since Bucky had seemingly disappeared into thin air, and he had never divulged where he went during his vanishing act in those first few days. Tony paced for a moment around the living room, having searched all of the rooms, closets, and even the bathtub. Approaching a panic attack and knowing that he wasn’t really thinking incredibly rationally, Tony walked through the kitchen to the small side entrance and flung open the door that held the washer, dryer, furnace and hot water heater. Even in the dark, he could tell that Bucky wasn’t there and the door was almost completely closed when Tony heard the chattering. 

It was a small sound, almost a buzzing white noise and so quiet that he nearly missed it. Tony stepped back into the appliance room, the sound growing as he did so. That’s when he noticed the tips of Bucky’s socked feet poking out from behind the furnace. 

“Bucky?” Tony asked, leaning against the wall and peeking behind the furnace. “Christ, Bucky, are you okay?”

Bucky sat there, wedged in the foot and a half of space between the furnace and the wall. His teeth were chattering and he was hugging himself tightly, rocking a bit front and backward. He was positively soaked in sweat, his hair wet against his head and his clothing visibly damp. He didn’t meet Tony’s eyes when he responded.

“Cold...it’s cold...I’m so cold…”

Tony’s heart thumped painfully in his chest. He knelt down in front of Bucky and reached out slowly, almost afraid to make contact. As gently as he could he laid his hand on Bucky’s knee. 

“Hey, okay. Cold we can manage, okay? I wanna help you, Buck. Will you let me help?”

Bucky’s teeth chattered for a moment longer before he finally looked up at Tony, his eyes wide and filled with ice blue fear, tinged with sadness and shame. 

“I’m cold, Tony, please.”

As Tony helped Bucky to stand, flinging the prosthetic arm over his own shoulder and gripping Bucky tightly around his waist to help him walk, he thought about how tortured he was by his own nightmares after the Battle of New York. He ached for Bucky then, for the fact that Bucky’s trauma followed him so physically even while awake. 

Bucky let Tony lead him up the stairs, chattering and shivering. Tony had planned on taking Bucky to his own room and piling blankets over him, but he quickly decided that his room would be the better option. First because it was closer, and second because Tony didn’t want to encroach on Bucky’s space and Bucky was in no condition to give him permission to do so. 

Tony helped Bucky sit on the edge of his bed, and he focused very hard on not thinking about how his pulse quickened at the sight of Bucky in his bed. It wasn’t the time for that.

“Okay, Bucky. Bucky?” Bucky stared ahead, unresponsive. Tony leaned down to be face to face with him and rested his hands on Bucky’s shoulders, much like Bucky had done to ground Tony previously. 

“Can I get you to look at me, James?” Tony whispered, and Bucky did. “If it’s okay with you, I’m going to help you get undressed. Your clothes are soaked and that’s not going to help you get warm, okay?” 

Bucky nodded once. Tony figured that this wasn’t Bucky’s first time experiencing this reaction, the feeling of cold. Bucky lifted his arms and Tony peeled his shirt off as quickly as possible. Bucky unbuttoned his jeans and used Tony’s shoulder to stand on shaky feet. He stepped out of his jeans and Tony kicked them to the side. Tony was about to tell Bucky to leave on his boxers, but Bucky dropped them to the floor. Tony averted his eyes and quickly pulled a pair of his own boxer briefs out of his drawer to hand to Bucky.

“Put these on, James, and lay down for me, okay? I’m going to grab a few more blankets.” 

He left Bucky to follow his directions, hoping the few seconds of his absence wouldn’t make a difference. He pulled blankets out of the hallway closet and quickly made his way back into the room, where Bucky was laying flat in his bed, the sheet and comforter pulled up to his chin, teeth still chattering and hair marking the pillow with droplets of sweat. 

“Okay, good, that’s good. I’m gonna.” Tony said softly, doing his best to speak soothingly. He unfolded two of the blankets and draped them over the bed, putting the others on the floor. He didn’t want to completely overheat Bucky, knowing the man had been close enough to doing so on his own sitting so close to the furnace. 

“Okay, James, I’m going to let you sleep, but I’ll be right outside the door, okay? Just like you do for me. You call me if you need-”

“Stay.”

It was said in a whisper and yet Tony could hear the pleading in Bucky’s voice. Tony cut himself off, swallowing the rest of his statement. He stuttered, not quite sure what to say.

“Please, stay with me. You’re warm, always so warm,” Bucky said, chills in his voice. 

Tony knew he wouldn’t refuse him, and so he didn’t try. 

Tony stepped out of his jeans, leaving on his t-shirt and briefs. He pulled up the corner of the covers and slipped into the bed beside Bucky, making sure to leave a few inches of space between them, not that he necessarily wanted to.

“Please…” Bucky murmured, turning from his back to lay on his side facing Tony. Tony complied easily, moving into the space between them. Bucky came willingly into his arms, burrowing his head into Tony’s chest, reactor hard against his cheek but apparently not a huge bother. Tony craned his neck to look down, sighing at the sight of tears dropping onto the blue of his chest. 

“Shh, it’s okay. Cry all you want, Bucky. James.” Tony reached up and stroked Bucky’s hair, sticky on his scalp. Bucky shivered but his teeth had stopped chattering. Tony continued to stroke his hair, other arm wrapped around Bucky’s waist. 

“I’ve got you, honey. I’ve got you.” Tony repeated the phrase over and over until Bucky stilled, shivers gone. Bucky fell into sleep first, after a long while, but Tony didn't mind.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is the last one, guys! 
> 
> I appreciate every comment and kudos more than I can say. It's really spurred me on to do my best with this fic, and I've gotta say that I'm really enjoying having you all as my new shipmates :)
> 
> Enjoy!

After that, they shared Tony’s bed.

It was an unspoken agreement that involved a few awkward moments of hesitation the night after Bucky’s breakdown. The awkwardness that Tony had figured would be inevitable come the next morning wasn’t there, as Tony had woken in an empty bed. He was greeted with the smell of cinnamon and coffee when he made his way downstairs, and Bucky had never looked more well-rested than he did that morning, flipping French toast and smiling at Tony like he was the _sun_. 

Tony had tripped over his own feet at the sight of Bucky freshly showered, no dark shadows under his eyes, moving fluidly and with some rhythm around the kitchen. His damp hair hung in a loose and low bun and when he laid eyes on Tony, the endless pools of his eyes glittered.

“Mornin’,” Bucky said brightly. “Breakfast?”

And then they had gone about their day as every other day in the house, occupying their time and waiting tersely for the phone to ring. Although, Tony realized, there was less impatience to be felt in the air than there had been in the previous weeks. 

It wasn’t until that night that they were confronted with the dilemma of ‘what now?’ The night had wound down slowly, sun bleeding into darkness through the slats in the blinds. Tony had taken to lounging on the loveseat, bare feet propped up, watching some ludicrous show that Clint never shut up about on his tablet. Bucky was curled up in the armchair with another book and Tony wasn’t sure how new books just kept appearing.

It was warm and relaxing. Until Bucky yawned.

“The rigors of our day taking a toll on you?” Tony cracked. Bucky flicked him off nonchalantly. 

“It’s weird, the opposite of what shoulda happened. I haven’t gotten that good a sleep in, oh, probably 75 or so years. Figured I’d have energy for days, but I'm actually a bit sleepy.”

Tony hummed. “Yeah, that’s the bitch of it. Give your body what it needs and it’ll become a greedy bastard.”

Silence stretched between them, thickening with each passing second until Bucky murmured something under his breath. Tony set his tablet down and turned towards the chair. 

“Come again?”

Bucky licked his bottom lip and looked _scared_. “I said...I said what I might need is what you gave me, last night.” 

Tony felt lightheaded, a rush of pleasure zipping up his spine. He kept his damn mouth shut until he decided what to say, not wanting to make Bucky uncomfortable.

“No qualms about sharing a bed with the guy who blew your arm off in unjustified anger?” Once the words were out of his mouth, Tony realized that it probably wasn’t the best phrasing if he was going for comfort. 

Bucky smiled though, a small tiny little upturn of his lips. “The way I see it, you helped my body get rid of Hydra. Between you doin’ that and Shuri gettin’ them outta my head, I’d say I don’t have many qualms, period.”

Tony swallowed. “And no qualms about sharing a bed with another guy, period?”

Bucky laughed outright at that, throwing his head back and Tony itched to suck a bruise on the expanse of his creamy throat. 

“Tony. If I could only tell you how many times I snuggled up to Stevie, Dum Dum or the other guys during the war, you’d realize how dumb a question that was.” Bucky’s words lacked any real insulting bite, but Tony felt heat rise in his cheeks anyway.

“Oh, right. Howling Commando over there. I, uh, I forget sometimes.”

Bucky’s smiled softened but didn’t disappear. “You know, I think I like that about you. You’ve never handled me with kid gloves or asked me what I remember about back then. I’m not. It’s. I’m not the same person I was back then, ya know? I like that you see me for who I am, now.”

Tony’s heart squeezed in his chest, his throat tightening. He couldn’t bring himself to say anything, to do anything but nod. 

“So,” Bucky said after a moment, his tone indicating a change in subject. “I shoulda asked before trying to get you to let me in your bed again” (and fuck if Tony’s body didn’t react to the sound of _that_ ) “but what about you? The thought of sharing your bed with a fella somethin’ that bothers you?”

It was Tony’s turn to laugh. “Oh, my Sweet Winter Child. I know that keeping up with the tabloid headlines probably wasn’t a top priority for you over the last few decades, but I’ve been known to warm my bed with any and all genders. I’m a non-discriminatory lover.”

Bucky’s grin turned into something wicked. Tony’s heart skipped a beat, heat growing in his belly. 

“Now, who said anything about lovers?” Bucky asked, and Tony froze.

“I...I didn’t mean it like...oh, fuck off, Barnes,” Tony spluttered as Bucky cracked up. 

“I’m just fuckin’ with you, Tony. You’re so easy.”

“Oh, now who’s talking about slutty things?” Tony quipped, and Bucky doubled over in his chair, giggling like a maniac. 

Bucky, happy and laughing, was the most glorious fucking thing Tony had ever witnessed firsthand. Or secondhand. Ever, okay. The most glorious sight ever. 

Tony stood from the loveseat and stretched, tossing his tablet down and heading for the stairs. He heard Bucky’s laughter die down.

“Well, you coming with or what?” Tony asked, and he warmed at how quickly Bucky sprang into step behind him.

*

Two more weeks passed, and they were starting to become frustrated. Their annoyance with the situation was still all but gone, but Tony was now starting to worry about Pepper and the business, and Bucky fluctuated between fussing about Steve and being pissed at Hydra’s continued ability to have a modicum of control over his life. Though they were both sleeping better, their day and night cycles becoming somewhat regulated, there was nowhere for their energy to go, no way to help after they had finished identifying landmarks on the map days before. They hadn’t heard from SHIELD or Steve in days and it was turning Bucky into a creature resembling a caged cat. 

“James! If you keep pacing you’re going to wear through the floor and I’d rather not have to deal with that. Get your ass over here!”

Tony had taken to using Bucky’s given name a few days before, after Bucky had mumbled to him during the night that he liked when Tony called him James. Bucky had been wrapped around Tony like an octopus at the time, leeching his body heat, and so Tony figured he was in no position to deny the request. That, and he had been concentrating so hard on keeping all of his blood from rushing to his dick that he would have agreed to anything in the moment. Because while they were sharing a bed and having more body to body contact than Tony had ever dared to dream of, Tony’s desire to kiss and bite and _consume_ Bucky only grew, and the last thing that he needed to happen whilst locked with the man in a safe house was for Bucky to find out that Tony was pretty much in love with him. 

Which is why, Tony would think a few hours later, calling Bucky over to the couch to stop him from pacing was a rotten idea.

“Fuck,” Bucky said, exhaling loudly. “I just want to go punch the fuckers out myself and get it over with.” Bucky fell onto the couch, leaving a cushion between them, and Tony reached out and pulled Bucky by his flesh arm until they were side to side. 

Looking more amused than confused, Bucky allowed himself to be manhandled by Tony until he was practically leaning back onto Tony’s chest. Tony used his hands to knead at the knots in Bucky’s back, and Bucky let out a groan that punched the air out of Tony’s lungs.

“Jesus, Tony, you’ve been holdin’ out, sweetheart,” Bucky sighed, leaning a bit forward so that Tony could have better access to his back. Tony’s core fluttered at the endearment, and he reminded himself that it was just the way Bucky spoke, all 1940’s charm.

“I’ve been saving this weapon until you got so fucking annoying that I had to shut you up,” Tony joked, and Bucky huffed.

“Sure. I ain’t gonna complain, but you’re full of shit,” Bucky said, tilting his head down. Tony’s hands drifted to the base of Bucky’s neck and Bucky _whimpered_. 

“Really? Care to share with the class why you think so?”

“C’mon, Tony. You think that I haven’t noticed how you like touchin’ me?”

Tony’s hands faltered at that, and they lay limp on the surface of Bucky’s shirt. Bucky turned his body slightly, and Tony’s hands fell away. 

“Hey, I’m not sayin’ it like it’s a bad thing. If I didn’t like you touchin’ me, then you would know it.” Bucky met Tony’s eyes tentatively and Tony couldn’t even bring himself to blink. “It might be that I’ve been takin’ advantage of you, Tony. Because I like your touch more than I’ve liked just about anything this century.” Bucky’s eyebrows twisted in thought. “In fact, maybe more than anything last century, too.”

Tony’s heart was racing, his mouth dry. “James,” he said, but didn’t continue. Bucky, to his credit, didn’t push. Tony took a minute to steel himself. 

He was a warrior, for fuck’s sake. A genius. A super hero. Motherfucking _Iron Man_. 

And he was scared shitless. Not of the man in front of him, but of the emotions that Bucky stirred within him. Of the thought of losing that, no matter how new it all was. 

“James,” Tony said again, and Bucky turned to face him, leaning forward a bit, crowding Tony’s space in the best way. 

“Talk to me, doll,” Bucky whispered, and _oh_. 

“I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t really, really want to kiss you right now,” Tony said. He tried for cocky, but it came out soft and pleading, raw and open. 

Bucky’s eyes fluttered closed, his cheeks flushing. His lips parted slightly, wrapping around Tony’s name as he started to reply.

“Tony-”

They both jumped, startled, as a shrill ringing sound emitted from the dining room. Bucky was on his feet first, at the table within a few strides, snatching the burner phone from its coveted spot in the center of the table. 

“Yeah?” he answered, still sounding breathless. Tony stood from his spot on the couch, head reeling, and Bucky’s eyes snapped wide.

“Tony, open the door,” Bucky instructed, and that could only mean one thing.

When Tony cracked the door open, Captain America himself stood on the other side, looking casual as could be in a pair of jeans and a grey t-shirt, a broad and goofy grin on his face. 

“Surprise, surprise. Good to see you, Cap,” Tony said, and was interrupted by the flash that was Bucky flying by him and into Steve’s arms. 

“You got ‘em?” Bucky asked, sounding like a kid on Christmas morning as he hugged Steve tightly. Steve laughed and squeezed back, clapping his hands on Bucky’s back before they parted.

“We got ‘em, yeah. Last night. All free and clear to come home.”

Bucky whooped, punching Tony excitedly on the shoulder. 

“Didja hear that, Tony? Let’s get the fuck outta here!” And then Bucky was gone into the house, no doubt to gather their sparse belongings. Bucky sounded so relieved, so happy, and Tony was glad for it. He was glad that Steve was safe, and that Bucky was now safe as well. 

He tried to ignore the acidic feelings of disappointment and loss brewing within him as they gathered their things, packed up the SHIELD envoy and pulled away from the safe house.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a fun (and challenging!) project for me. I've really enjoyed getting more familiar with these characters, Tony in particular, and I'm happy with this lil fic.
> 
> Thank you for reading, and for every comment or tap of that kudos button. You guys give me life.
> 
> Enjoy!

Three days passed at the tower before they ran into each other after leaving the safe house. 

Life had been a flurry for Tony from the second that they stepped foot inside the building, Pepper on his ass immediately with warm welcomes and equal chastisement for going and getting himself locked away with the Winter Soldier for weeks. Then came the myriad of backed up requests from R&D, cleaning up the messes that Dum-E and U had created in the shop while he was away, and being brought up to speed by Bruce about the happenings in the lab. 

All of that took up his first 48 hours home. His body, now accustomed to regular sleep, longed to crawl in between his 1,800 thread count sheets and eventually, somewhere around hour 56, he collapsed into his king-sized bed in his master suite, burritoed himself with blankets, closed his eyes…

...and proceeded to lay awake for three fucking hours before angrily dragging himself to the shop to rip some shit apart, trying like hell not to acknowledge the fact that he wanted nothing more than to bombard Bucky in his apartment and curl around him for a bout of deep, toasty sleep. 

What would Bucky do? Would he open his door to Tony, open his arms, his bed, his mouth, his legs? Had Tony simply imagined the moment that Steve had rudely interrupted, or had he read it wrong? It could have been that Bucky had been lonely, bored, desperate, stressed…

This was Tony’s stream of thought around hour 38 as he dragged himself into the elevator after getting a text from Natasha threatening his life should he not come upstairs to eat some of the takeout that the team had ordered for dinner. In the state that he was in, both physically and emotionally, he wouldn’t stand an ounce of a chance against her wrath, and so complying was his only option, really. 

Why Tony hadn’t thought that Bucky would be there, who knew. Tony blamed it on lack of sleep, the jolt of surprise that buzzed through him at the sight of Bucky sitting at the dining room table between Steve and Clint, shoveling Indian food into his mouth like a starving man. He looked good, Tony couldn’t help but think. He looked rested, and happy, and comfortable, and maybe the fact that Bucky looked like the opposite of everything that Tony was feeling was a good thing, but Tony only felt a bit more shattered at the sight. 

“Hey! He lives!” Clint sang out as Tony walked into the room. Bucky’s eyes snapped to Tony immediately, and just as quickly diverted back to Steve, who shot Tony a small wave as he continued whatever conversation they had been having. Nobody else acknowledged Tony other than Natasha, who sent him a satisfied nod as he filled his plate. Tony knew that he felt eyes on his back from where Bucky sat as he piled rice and veggies onto his plate, making him hustle to get back to the shop even faster. He turned to walk across the dining room and back out of the door, fingers crossed that nobody would interrupt his awkward escape.

Fucking Barton, though. 

“How’re you sleeping, Tony? You look like shit.” Charming as ever, Clint at least sounded somewhat concerned. Tony stopped but didn’t turn to face them. 

“Just peachy. Being back in my own bed is magic, you know?” He couldn’t resist shooting a glance at Bucky, a fleeting expression disappearing from his face as soon as Tony made eye contact. “Right, Natty Ice?”

Bucky cleared his throat and plastered on a broad smile. “Sure thing, Stark. Been sleepin’ like the dead since comin’ home. Glad to hear you’re doing the same.”

And Tony knew that he had started it, spitting out a random nickname as he had, but at that moment he missed the way that Bucky said ‘Tony’ so much that he could hardly _breathe_ , and so he simply smiled and hustled out of the room, trying to ignore the pain flaring behind his glowing reactor. 

*

“Boss, Bucky is requesting entrance.”

The fact that even Friday was comfortable enough to use Bucky’s first name caused Tony to crack his neck in annoyance. He was on edge; aside from 10-minute catnaps taken on workbenches or while putting his head down on lab tables, he hadn’t gotten actual sleep at any point during the 52 hours since they had returned from the safe house. His clothes were greasy, his eyes heavy, and his stomach empty. Christ, his entire vessel was empty at that point, his energy sapped from missing Bucky, from wondering why he had allowed himself to be so vulnerable in the situation when of course, nothing would change once they were home. Why would anything have changed?

“Let him in, darling,” Tony responded, not moving from where he was sitting on the floor, assembling a few dozen new tracking arrows for Clint. He resisted looking up as Bucky’s footfalls grew closer, only speaking when Bucky’s sock-clad feet came into view in his peripheral vision. 

“Howdy Princess. What brings a greaseball like you to a grease pit like this?” Tony kept his hands moving, unable to miss the sight of Bucky’s weight shifting. 

“Well, Tony, if you’d actually bother to greet me properly maybe you’d change your teasin’.”

Tony looked up at that, because damn if he would back down from a direct challenge. When he took in the sight of Bucky standing above him, his breath shot out of him loudly, mouth drying instantly. Bucky blushed something pretty, the color filling his sharp cheekbones which were now in plain sight due to the fact that Bucky’s hair was no longer in the way. Tony understood Bucky’s statement in an instant because, yeah, Bucky looked nothing like the ‘greaseball’ that he had been when he first stumbled into the Tower after his time in Wakanda. 

The man in front of Tony now, the one smiling shyly down at him? He was sharp and also soft, powerful body covered in sweatpants and a loose-hanging henley. His hair was short, obviously freshly cut, and it lay lightly swooped to one side as it had in so many of the photos in Tony’s history books. Bucky looked healthy, dapper, and comfy all rolled into one, like he was _home_ , not only in the tower but also in his own skin. 

Tony was breaking at the sight of him. 

“Clint do that?” Tony asked before he could think, needing the silence to end. Bucky nodded once, running his flesh hand through his hair, which fell gracefully back into place. 

“He did. Took me some time to trust him to do it, but he finally wore me down. Do,” Bucky stuttered, flitting his eyes away from Tony’s. “Do you. Is it...okay?”

And sure, Tony was broken in a million different ways, but of course. 

Bucky was broken, too. 

“I can’t sleep,” Tony blurted, not at all how he had wanted to respond. He thought about backtracking, about telling Bucky that of course his hair was okay, that he was so fucking beautiful that it twisted Tony up inside. He decided against it; he wasn’t a coward. He wasn’t, and so he decided to settle on the truth and run with it. 

“Since being back here. I’ve tried, Buck, I actually have. But you see, something’s missing now.” Tony tapped the arrow in his hand against the ground a few times, before using it to motion up at Bucky, who was listening with rapt attention. “Pretty sure I don’t have to spell out what that is.”

Tony wasn’t sure how Bucky would respond, if he would be surprised, or if he would take Tony’s confession in stride. What he didn’t expect was for Bucky to look so damn relieved.

“Oh, thank God,” Bucky breathed, and he folded down to the floor, legs crossing on his way down until he was sitting right across from Tony, only the pile of arrows separating them. “Tony, solnyshko, I’m so tired. My bed is cold, and empty, and do you know how dark it is without your heart glowin’ up at me?” Bucky’s eyes were locked onto Tony’s and they were begging, and pushing, drilling Bucky’s meaning and intent into Tony as he spoke. 

“I thought you were sleeping like the dead, you lying asshole.” Tony’s tone betrayed his growing hope, but he couldn’t be bothered to care. 

Bucky laughed, eyes crinkling in the corners, and Tony longed to trace the lines with his fingers. 

“I had to say something because apparently, we’ve been playing some game that I wasn’t clued in on. A game where we just go back to being teammates, using last names and pretending that we were sleeping and functioning just fine. We got home and you just disappeared on me.” Bucky shrugged. “Figured you were leavin’ what happened in the safe house at the safe house. Didn’t wanna step on your toes.”

Tony swallowed and picked up the pile of arrows gingerly, setting them aside and clearing up the few inches of space between them. He licked his lips before he spoke, and Tony shook at the way Bucky’s eyes tracked the action. 

“What happened at the safe house, James?” Tony asked, a challenge in the whisper. 

Bucky hesitated then, biting at his lower lip. “Thought we were gettin’ sweet on each other, if I’m being honest. I know I was.”

“Yes, honey, _yes_ ,” Tony confirmed, moving towards Bucky as though magnetized. He opened his mouth to pick up where they had left off, to ask Bucky if he could kiss him, finally kiss him, but Bucky beat him to it, meeting him in the middle. Tony sighed and the sound was enveloped in Bucky’s warm mouth, those soft lips settling against Tony’s as though they were slipping into place. Tony knew that there wasn’t an audible click, but it was something he felt instead, the feeling of his feet on the ground, a buzzing in his chest, dust settling.

It was easy to lose track of time as they breathed into each other, nipping at lips and dragging lines of kisses down throats and collar bones. Tony didn’t know exactly when he had crawled into Bucky’s lap, the realization dawning on him only when Bucky broke their kiss, settling his forehead against Tony’s and placing his strong hands on the tops of Tony’s thighs straddled around Bucky’s waist. 

“That was-”

“Yeah,” Tony agreed, running his fingers through the short tuft of the back of Bucky’s hair. He felt Bucky’s breath on his mouth when he huffed out a small laugh.

“Oh, 'm sorry, baby. I marked you up a bit,” Bucky said, sounding sincere and bringing his metal hand from Tony’s thigh to brush over a tender spot on his throat. Tony shrugged. 

“I couldn’t possibly care any less than I do right now. Although it is unfair, you remain clear and unblemished, and not for lack of trying.”

Bucky nodded. “Healing factor.” He opened his mouth as though he wanted to say more, but closed it in a tight smile.

Tony shook his head and placed a small kiss on that smile. “Nuh uh. No walls, not now with me literally sitting on your lap. What’s running through your brain?”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Was just wonderin’ if you were planning on hiding it. The bruise.”

Tony cocked his head. “That your way of asking if I’m planning on hiding this? Hiding you?”

Bucky groaned. “I don’t know what I was thinkin’, trying to get with an actual genius.”

Tony grinned. “Trying? I would say you’ve absolutely succeeded.”

Bucky sighed. “Tony.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Tony waved a hand aimlessly in the air. “Back to it. Uh, I wasn’t planning on hiding anything, unless you want to. If we’re going to do this? Make this thing a thing? Honestly, James, I’m a flaunter in case you hadn’t noticed, and I’ll flaunt you up and down every street of this city, if you’d let me.”

Bucky’s responding smile was bright and brilliant, it was _everything_. 

“Maybe not up and down every street, not quite yet,” Bucky said, pecking Tony on the lips, “but maybe in front of Steve?”

Tony honest to God giggled. “You wanna see if you can get that vein in his forehead to pop, or are you wanting to get him to blush like a schoolgirl?”

Bucky thought for a moment. “I’m kinda hopin’ for both?”

Tony whooped, laughing from somewhere within himself that he had long forgotten about. “You’re a menace, James. You’re going to be the death of me.”

Bucky’s lips turned up. “God, I hope so, sweetheart."

Tony most definitely did not hate Bucky, and he was pretty safe to assume that Bucky most definitely didn’t hate him, either.


End file.
